Sunday, September 14, 2014

Fucking In the Big Chair

Detroit—June, 2014

It’s a suburb of Detroit that I have never tricked in, but I
find the house easily. Rain is just
beginning to spatter the street as I park my car. I cross the street and knock. The sunny drive into the city has turned to a
grey and nasty cloudburst by the time the host opens the door.

“I told Mikey I heard the doorbell, but he said you couldn’t
possibly be here yet.”

“I’m on time, aren’t I?” I ask as I hug our host. He’s been through a lot lately—and the
troubles have etched themselves on his face.
I follow our host up some steep steps and around the clutter on the
landing.

“Oh, yeah. Mikey is
just finishing up in the shower.”

The chair is set up.

Mikey emerges naked, steamy and slightly wet.

We chat.

I strip.

We take some pictures of Mikey in the fuck chair.

I put the camera down and walk to the chair. I kneel and work my tongue into Mikey’s
ass. The host sits in a regular chair
opposite, opens his robe and strokes.
Soon he walks over to chew on Mikey’s nipples. I use this as my cue to stand up and fuck
Mikey. I love watching his face as I
enter him. I can chart how deep in him I
am by watching his eyes. I fuck until our host is hard.

The host spells me up Mikey’s ass. It’s my turn to work nipples.

The men switch. The
host wants our dicks up him. Mikey goes
first. They have ben fuck buddies for
years. He knows exactly what drives the
host crazy. I watch and take note—and take
my turn.

The host tells me he needs a break.

“Do you want to eat my ass?” I ask Mikey.

“Whatever you want, Daddy Man.”

I take my turn in the chair.
I am surprised at how comfortable it is.
Then I just close my eyes and revel in the slow, wet licking of my
balls, my ass cheeks and my hole. I look
over at the regular chair where the host sits—he’s asleep, mid-stroke.

I look down at Mikey, questioningly.

“Narcolepsy.”

He goes back to his deep rimming as I take a hit of
poppers. I lean back and let Mikey take control of my ass.

Mikey and I change places.
I spend more time eating his hole.
Our pace has slowed since it’s now all about just the two of us. I stand.
I slip into him. Literally. One long glide into his well fucked chute.

He groans softly in the back of his throat. Our eyes are locked on each other again. I am doing slow pull outs and slower thrusts.
It is making him pant. I reach a point
where I have to fuck him hard. I am
amazed the sound of my hips slapping on Mikey’s upturned butt doesn’t wake our
host up. But it doesn’t.

“You make me feel so good…”

This make me fuck him even harder. Suddenly, I am over the edge—long before I
want to be. I am spewing my cum into
him. Deep. And there is a lot of it. I keep shooting and shooting. I bend down.
Our lips meet.

We kiss for a long time.

And he’s milking my dick the whole time. I am marinating in his hole. He squeezes me—clamping down with that
talented ass—getting every drop of seed out of my balls.

We don’t disturb the sleeping host. We just hold on to each other and whisper
exactly what we are feeling into the other’s ear.

From My Side of the Sling

I have written and sent my sexual exploits to certain friends for years. With their encouragement, I have finally decided to post them for a wider audience. Everything in the stories is how it happened--with some names changed.